Behind the Screens
by ThePreciousHeart
Summary: Merlin's always preferred to live his life from behind a screen. Until he loses his main connection to the tangible world and has to deal with it. Short one-shot.


" **I likely won't do any more fics for [the movie Kingsman]," I said. Key word being "likely."**

 _Behind the Screens/Save the World, Then to You_

It had always been so much easier to view the world from behind a screen.

No need to worry about people spotting you at random and approaching for a talk. Nothing to wear on your nerves until they're ragged and you're checking out of the corners of your eyes for some unspeakable danger to befall you. There's a potent sense of security- you're detached, free from the very real peril of fieldwork. Life behind a screen is all business.

Life behind a screen does not feel real.

Until recently, Merlin had enjoyed living his life in such a way. He'd always assumed he'd developed the same habit from his uncle. To the rest of the family, uncle Noel was a recluse, but he always managed to find time for Merlin- well, Ian, back then. Theirs was the closest bond that Noel cared to maintain. Due to the secretive nature of his profession (the specifics of which no one in Ian's family was really quite sure), he kept everyone at an arm's length. Except for Ian. For Ian he let him stay over at his flat and taught him all there was to know about whatever new technical project he was tinkering with. Through Noel, Ian learned the tools of the trade.

Eventually "Noel" revealed to Ian that in other circles, he was known as Merlin- circles that considered him a technology expert and relied on him to keep men safe. Said men were what was commonly known as "secret agents." Ian took it in stride, but only because on the heels of that announcement came a much more shocking one. A position in Merlin's group- known as "Kingsman"- had just opened up, and Merlin wanted Ian to observe and even partake in the training for their newest recruit. He soon explained that, should he ever retire, he had hope that Ivan would fill in his shoes.

Obligingly, Ian attended training for the new position, to take on the codename of "Galahad." Each day and night became a blur. Some of it he liked, particularly the weapons tests. Handling a gun came surprisingly easily, and his marksmanship was unrivaled by any of the actual candidates. Sniping in particular became his specialty. Most of the tests, though, he didn't care for at all. It was all so violent, so "do or die." Sniping he could handle because of the distance- his target never once caught sight of him. But nearly everything else was so hands-on that Ian felt suffocated. Most tests left him with sweat on his forehead and a ratcheting heart rate **.** The absolute worst had to be when the team went skydiving **.** Hurtling towards the ground at a highly-accelerating rate and praying to God that his parachute was working was not an experience Ian ever wished to repeat. At least Merlin was kind enough to let him in on the trick, and inform Ian that he had a parachute at all.

Fortunately, Merlin had made it well understood that Ian was not there to win Galahad's position- just to gain some experience should he ever be needed in the field. While the rest of the candidates slept in their beds, dreaming up more torturous tests to come, Ian was in the tech department with Merlin, learning and memorizing the ropes. It was here that Ian realized just how demanding a job his uncle had- and how much he wanted to have it. Tinkering around with the tech was all fine and good, but the screens… goodness, the screens. With Ian peering over his shoulder all the while, Merlin guided agents on missions, watching them through the cameras hidden inside their glasses. As he observed, Ian fell under a spell. There was nothing to fear from this type of work. If anything happened, it would be to the agent and not to Merlin. The absence of real threat left Ivan's mind free to work methodically, logically. _Turn the corner. Go down the steps. Oh, there's some bad guys. Take them out._ Even the blood that spattered looked fake to some extent. Of course Ian was well-aware that this was a very real and important situation, and that any mistake of Merlin's could lead to an agent's demise **.** But the protection that the screens ensured helped him keep a cool head, which reduced the likelihood of him making mistakes in the first place.

When the tests were over, the candidate Harry Hart was named as Galahad's successor, and Ian Meyer was enrolled as an intern in Kingsman's tech department. Two years later, his uncle surrendered the position to him, and Merlin he became.

Ever since his training days, Merlin had taken comfort in his way of life. Oh, he still interacted with the tangible world often enough. When times were tight, he was called on as a field agent, and once in a blue moon there were training programs to oversee. Agents constantly streamed in and out of his office- "Merlin, can you fix this?" "Merlin, sorry to bother you but I think my glasses aren't transmitting properly…" "Merlin, you've been locked away in here for as long as I've known you. How about we go out for tea sometime?" He still took pleasure in the sensations of rain falling on his skin, of hot coffee or tea sliding down his throat, of a strong arm wrapped around his waist and a charming smile buried in his neck. But when he was sitting at the controls in his office, watching Lancelot or Percival or Galahad complete their mission through the large display before him- well, it was then that he felt more safe and at home than he ever could elsewhere. Possibly barring the flat full of butterflies that he visited every chance he got off-work, where he was always welcomed with warm words and a kiss.

 _Life behind a screen isn't real._ So Merlin had always believed. Until the day that a shot carried its way across the feed and the screen trickled red, then went black. Until the day that Merlin's strongest connection to the tangible world was taken along with the video link.

Life behind a screen may not be real. But death beyond a screen is another matter.

Losing an agent had always been a well-founded concern. Just look at what happened to Lancelot, for crying out loud. It wasn't like Merlin had been slacking off behind the controls. No, he'd stayed with him through the full transmission, right up to when the video feed split into two and then shorted out. There was nothing he could have done to prevent that; it had all happened so quickly. But that was bold, cocky Lancelot who'd gotten himself killed, Lancelot who could be provoked into showing off his flashy skills at any chance he got. This time it wasn't Lancelot- it was Galahad, even-tempered and dependable Galahad, Galahad whose impressive combat skills were formidable, but who never deliberately drew attention to them unless the need called for it. If it wasn't for the shot still ringing in his ears, Merlin never would have guessed that Galahad's life would be taken so quickly, so neatly.

His fingers shook at the controls, and blood pounded in his head. Methods and logic were completely driven from his mind, leaving a gaping hole of nothingness. Numbly Merlin turned his seat away from the giant screen before him, unable to bear the black display anymore. He felt like an anvil or something had slammed into his chest, taking all the breath from his lungs and weighing him down.

Because it wasn't just Galahad who had been lost—it was _Harry._ Harry who always began private meetings with a welcoming embrace. Harry who brought him coffee when he was working a particularly long and arduous mission, and dragged him away from his office when he'd stayed holed up for too long. Harry who clasped his hands when the anxiety struck and breathed with him, kissing his knuckles and forehead as soon as the wave of terror passed. With Harry, Merlin had shared missions, a bed, and most importantly, a life. A new Galahad would be found in the next round of training, but Harry Hart could never be replaced.

Deeply Merlin inhaled, trying not to think of the many times he had been through this breathing pattern with Harry, trying to ignore the stinging tears at the corners of his eyes. _Think. Think._ Wait a few seconds, sort through the overwhelming emotions, and then- and then, work. And then, work. Return to life behind a screen, once you're able to deal with life from beyond it. _Orient yourself…_

A memory surfaced through the ringing in Merlin's ears, breaking free of the nothingness that filled his mind. Every detail was perfectly crystalline. It was a reoccurring memory, starting with the first mission Harry had performed under Merlin's direction. The older agents had been at ease on their way to their destination, calmly listening to Merlin as he filled in the finer details of the mission. Harry, however, had been distracted with tossing around banter, only tuning in as Merlin drew to a close and threw out a general warning- "And whatever you do, try not to get yourselves killed out there, OK?"

"OK," most of the agents had replied to acknowledge that they knew the score. Harry, however, piped up with a desperate, "Wait- Merlin, I didn't-"

"Don't 'wait, Merlin!' me," Merlin snapped, ready to show the younger agent who was boss. Ever since his uncle had handed him the reins of the job at such a young age, he had clutched them tightly and never let go for dear life. "It's not my fault if you weren't paying attention. Just concentrate on the mission. Go save the world, then come to me."

Little did he realize that Harry had found that statement surprisingly enticing. From inauspicious beginnings rose a private saying between them, heightened when their relationship took a turn down a sweeter path.

"Try not to get yourself killed out there, OK, Galahad?"

And Galahad- Harry- would respond, "Don't worry, Merlin. I'll save the world, then come to you."

The last time Merlin had heard such a phrase uttered was when Harry was on the plane to America, headed towards the South Glade Mission Church and his certain doom. It replayed itself like an audio clip in Merlin's mind- _"Save the world first. Then to you, Ian."_ If he let himself, Merlin could almost picture the dashing, relaxed smile adorning Harry's face. Now that was a Harry worth remembering- not the crazed killer in the church, not the bloodied body left for crows to peck at, but the confident gentleman spy who was ready to face his next mission with ease.

 _Save the world. Then to Ian._

 _Save the world. Then… Ian._

 _Then… Harry._

The crushing weight gradually lifted from Merlin's chest, his emotions spiraling away into a small mental box. Brushing the tears from his eyes, he turned again to face the empty screen before him.

If he could just pretend for as long as he needed to that life behind a screen wasn't real, he would be free to concentrate on the daunting task at hand. Just long enough to rescue humanity. He'd deal with consequences later.

 _Save the world first. Then… to Harry._


End file.
